


like the crashing of the waves

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breeding, Creampie, Day At The Beach, Derogatory Language, Dirty Talk, Father/Son Incest, Knotting, M/M, Nipple Play, Obedience, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post-Coital Cuddling, Public Sex, Self-Lubrication, Shota Stiles Stilinski, Size Difference, Top John, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism, Wet Clothing, mention of MPREG, mention of gangbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is being a cute kid and playing in the sand, only in this fic he's a twinky little omega and his soaked-through shirt means he's unknowingly ogled by pretty much every alpha on the beach. Obviously, his father doesn't really like that, and decides to stake his claim.</p><p>Or, Stiles gets fucked at the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like the crashing of the waves

**Author's Note:**

> As always, everything's in the tags and warnings, so please read them carefully. Of course, if you feel something's missing, just tell me and I'll add it, no problem. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd as well, so if you see any mistake, please tell me and I'll fix it?
> 
> In the mean time, enjoy! ;)

"Look, daddy! Look what I found!"

John makes all the appropriate cooing noises as his son shows him yet another batch of the various shells one can find on the beach, and after John has promised to keep an eye on the precious discoveries, Stiles is off again, all enthusiastic joy and innocent curiosity.

John, ever the attentive father, doesn't let his gaze stray from his son, and he watches him as the boy walks alongside the water... but his careful surveillance doesn't keep John from noticing that he's not the only one eagerly watching Stiles.

In fact, pretty much every single male on the beach, be it alpha or beta, has at least one eye trained on John's tiny omega of a son.

But god, Stiles has no idea, has he?

He has no idea how delectable he looks right now, all pale and limber, the perfect picture of submissive omega boy as he runs around practically naked... 

John, once again, wonders if it was such a good idea to come to the beach today... but then again, he was never the best at resisting Stiles' big, pleading doe-eyes -- never mind that the boy didn't even have his swimsuit with him…

And now he's running around in only his underwear and a tank top, the white fabric gone see-through with salt water, and John can only blame himself for the fact that every single man on this beach is drooling on his baby… because the boy's sweet little tits are impossible to ignore right now, the tiny buds gone all tight and pink and _hard_ from the cold water, pointing through the thin fabric like a _fucking provocation_.

Of course Stiles is completely oblivious; he doesn't know that every step he takes makes his bubbly ass shake oh-so-invitingly, doesn't know that every time he bends over to pick up a colorful shell, the thin fabric stretches over his ass, showing a pink hint of wet opening and making every single man on this beach want to pounce and plow that lovely omega cunt into next week.

He doesn't know, and John has to do something to show all these greedy pervs on the beach that Stiles is his, and no one else's.

"Stiles!" he calls, and his baby perks up immediately, he's such a good boy. "Come here!"

Stiles comes to him, grinning happily, and his mouth is so fucking precious, all red and soft, and John wants to _take._

"Come here, baby boy," he orders gently, patting his lap. "Come sit on daddy."

Stiles smiles at him and plops down, graceless as a baby deer as he straddles his father's strong thighs, settling his firm ass against the sun-warm skin, and John shivers lightly at the wet, cold touch.

"God, Stiles," John says, and his voice is soft and deep. "My precious little boy."

His hands slide under the cold fabric of Stiles' shirt, and he watches them through the soaked cotton as they go up, up until each palm is nestled right under the boy's smooth armpits and he can nudge each thumb against a perky nipple… Stiles lets out a mewl, pupils dilating at the first graze, and John starts to roll the hard little nubs under the pads of his thumbs, barely pressing down on them, just enough to see Stiles' cheeks reddening, hear his breath go ragged.

"You have no idea what you look like, do you?" John whispers. "You have no idea what a little slut you've been..."

Stiles keens, and his hands are gripping his father's biceps hard, as if to try and anchor himself, and his lower lip is shiny and bright red where he's biting it.

"You have no idea what every man on this beach has been thinking, seeing you running around like the perfect little bitch you are..."

Stiles is full-on moaning now, his boyish, narrow hips rolling against his father's thighs, clumsily searching friction; John chuckles lowly and slides down his hands, caressing his boy's flanks and lower back until he can slip under the flimsy fabric of the pretty white panties and grab two handfuls of perfectly round ass cheeks.

"But they don't know, do they now?" he sighs, and his strong fingers knead the flesh possessively. "They don't know who you belong to... they don't know who's the only one allowed to take that sweet little baby cunt."

John dips a finger between the cheeks, pressing lightly against the hot coiled entrance, teasing Stiles with circular motions... when he finally pushes a finger inside his boy, he is pleased to find him slick already, Stiles' hole stretching easily around his knuckles, open and wet and ready.

"You want it so much, baby... you're such a perfect little slut," he says, voice low and tight with proud arousal.

John pushes deeper and Stiles _whimpers_ when he finds his prostate, pupils dilating so far his eyes are made of pure, lusty black.

"Yes I--" Stiles hiccups, wet eyelashes batting prettily, "I am, d-daddy."

His big eyes flutter down to where his daddy is opening his fly and taking his cock out, and he _licks his lips_ , looking hungry and shy and oh-so-perfect... John smirks then, bringing his lips to his son's ear.

"Let's show them," he whispers, and Stiles lets out an eager little moan, nodding sweetly against his father's jaw.

"That's right, baby," John chuckles. "Let's show them who you belong to," he says, and he tugs Stiles closer to him, squeezing that flat boyish chest to his own, hard and possessive… and if the movement settles the boy's warm, perfect, open little hole right against John's rock-hard prick, well, that's all the better.

John's erection is trapped snug between Stiles' pert ass cheeks and he can _feel it_ , that greedy little pussy, hot and ripe through the wet panties, twitching against the length of his leaking cock as Stiles moans and keens... bony little hips stuttering, slim pale thighs straining, slick opening kissing and fluttering for his cock, but John doesn't go in; not yet. Right now, he is content with staying still, enjoying that perfect moment of anticipation where Stiles is rutting on him, shameless and beautiful and ready, where he knows Stiles is _his_ and that soon his perfect little hole will be filled to the brim with John's come.

Meanwhile, Stiles is going nearly mad with want.

"Daddy please," he's panting, small hips rocking sinfully, "please give it to me, _please_..."

"Well," John concedes. "Since you're asking so nicely..."

And with that, he pushes Stiles' thin, slick-soaked little panties aside and slowly pushes in.

As always, the boy's hole feels like heaven around him; tight and smooth and hot, greedily swallowing every inch of rock-hard flesh like a sheath made just for him... and John can feel the stares on him, the eyes of all these alphas strained on their coupling, the breezy air of the beach now thick with envy and desire as they all watch his enormous cock fuck its way through his son's plush, warm insides.

Stiles exhales a long sigh as he is finally filled, and John can feel his little forehead drop on his father's shoulder when he bottoms out; John smiles proudly when he feels Stiles' ass meet the top of his thighs, and he kisses the boy's temple, rubbing circles on the smooth expanse of his back.

"You're doing so good, baby, so good for me" he murmurs lowly in Stiles' ear. "Look at you, taking my cock like a perfect whore..."

Stiles moans when John gives a little upward thrust, hitting the boy's prostate dead-on.

"They all want you, you know," he whispers. "They want you so much, I bet they're all hard in their swim trunks, balls tight and knots aching for your little omega cunt..."

Stiles is so beautiful like this, his tiny body opening up for his father's huge cock, color high on his cheeks as he is thoroughly wrecked, and John can't stop talking, whispering filthy things in his pretty son's ear, reminding himself with every word that Stiles is _his._

"You would be in so much trouble if I wasn't there, my precious little slut," he says fondly, pushing Stiles' hairless, soft little balls aside to watch how beautifully his cock penetrates him at every thrust, stretching the skin so widely it looks like it could tear any second. "They would _break you,_ Stiles. They wouldn't even fight each other, wouldn't try and decide who gets you first... they'd just pounce and pin you down, and then next thing you know you'd be stuffed full of huge," John gives a sharp thrust up, "hard", he does it again, "alpha", again, " _cock_."

He gives one last hard thrust and Stiles gasps, his big doe-eyes watering.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you Stiles?" John says, and it's not even a question. "You'd thrash around and you'd scream but you would _love_ it, to be forced on your knees and fucked within an inch of your life... I bet you'd be dripping, your sweet little pussy drenched in creamy slick just for them."

John is thrusting faster now, Stiles bouncing weakly on his cock, his pale, delicate face twisted in almost-pained ecstasy as he babbles incoherently, _please_ and _daddy_ falling free from his open mouth.

"They'd breed you so good, baby boy," he continues. "Knot you so hard and deep and come all the way inside your ripe little cunt, flooding your insides with warm, thick seed, filling you right up to the brim, and then again and again and _again_ , until you're all but ready to burst, your pretty little belly so full and round with them..."

John slides a hand down Stiles' ass cleft, right where the fat girth of his cock is splitting him in half, stretching the soft, slick opening, and he teases the sore, tender flesh, slipping one finger in the already tight fit, delighted to hear the boy moan unabashedly.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he murmurs hotly. "And you'd be so beautiful, Stiles. So fucking pretty all bred up, your ripe baby cunt full of pups, all swollen and soft and glowing..."

Stiles is keening now, one long plaintive sound as John picks up the pace, hammering his son's prostate mercilessly.

"But that's not gonna happen, is it," he chuckles, dark and possessive. "They know you're mine now. They know I'm the only one allowed to fuck your sweet little cunt full of come, to breed you until you can't walk."

John can feel his knot swelling, gorging with blood until it catches at Stiles' rim every time he lifts the skinny, small hips up, the boy whimpering plaintive and high as his hole clenches hungrily.

"That's what you want, isn't it Stiles? For me to breed you, to come so deep inside you you'll feel it for days, to fill up you so good you'll let go of my cock and be pregnant already..."

"Yes daddy," the boy pants, words cut by moans and cries every time John hits his prostate, faster and harder and _faster_ , "I'm yours, please--breed me, put your seed inside me!"

And just like that, just at hearing his son so needy and slutty, John feels his orgasm rip through him; Stiles lets out a blissful sigh as his father's fat knot finally catches his open, slippery cunt's rim for good and John sees stars, shooting his load deep inside the soft, supple little body, as the knot locks them together.

When they come down, Stiles looks deliciously wrecked, whiskey-gold irises gone glassy under his heavy eyelids.

"I-I'm so _full_ ," he says, and his voice is broken and lovely and god, John loves him so much.

"Yeah, baby," he whispers, sweet and caring, cradling his son's limp, fucked-out body, gently rocking him on his knot.

He is still coming, throbbing member pulsing hot and wet inside the warm, open pussy, and he nuzzles at Stiles' temple.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly.

Because while his dirty talk is something Stiles is used to (and very appreciative of, if the way he always comes extra-hard is any indication), John’s knot is still a little too big for the boy, and he usually doesn’t knot him without a long, slow prep… obviously he got a little crazy proving his dominance over the other alphas of the beach, and he’s worried he went too far, but Stiles only nods sleepily.

"Yeah," he snuffles against John's neck, all warm and cuddly. "Feels good."

And that, right there, is why John will never regret mating his own son.

It just feels too right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, don't forget to leave kudos and/or a comment! I would love to know what you thought.
> 
> Anyway, have a great day!


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